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too glowingly when he gave form and figure to the fallacious principles and fimulating fentiments of the late EARL OF CHESTERFIELD; who, certainly intended to make a SEDLEY of a STANHOPE: at the fame time, it gratifies us to perceive the ear of a young writer, in the heydey of his imagination, thus open to every appeal of fober criticifm, ánd rather liftening to, than turning from the voice of inftruction and propriety. He thought an antidote neceffary to expell the poifon of Chefterfield, and here it is-prepared in a very fkilful manner. The Syftem of Truth is here fully and permanently eftablished upon the ruins of the Syftem of Simulation; and though we do not think there is the fatne degree of impetuous fire, pointed paffion, and feductive' eloquence in the character of Carlisle, which are to be diftinguished in that of Sedley, yet thofe who confider the bleffings which beam upon fociety from affections more difciplined, vivacity more chaftifed, principles more correct, and pursuits more laudable, will not fail to dwell with delight on the contraft; and on reflection wish to imitate the Tutor of Truth rather than the Pupil of Pleafure. This work is, therefore, not fo much to be recommended as a sparkling effufion of genius, kindling as it goes along-for in this refpect we prefer the former publication-but as an amiable effort of judgment and good fenfe, exciting the fofter and gentle feelings of the mind; and pointing out the paths of honour, truth, and integrity in our dealings both with men and women, inftead of thofe which frequently lead, as in the cafe of Sedley, to brilliant wretchedness, and dazzling ruin. It is in this view we think, with our author, that the work is a fequel worthy the hiftorý which gave it birth,

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The dexterity of this writer in drawing characters, in aptly difcriminating them from each other, and in marking their due proportions, has been acknowledged ever fince the appearance of that book of characters called Liberal Opinions,' though we think nature more closely copied in Shenftone Green'-The fame talent is difcernable in many parts of The Tutor of Truth' efpecially in the character of Gabriel Hewfon the claffical pedant, whofe manners, however common in life, are, we think, not ufually found in books. Perhaps Medway's character is a little outré, unless we allow that of Colonel Bath, in Henry Fielding's Amelia, to be naturally drawn; and then this of our author, is too clofe a copy.-Henry Hewfon's humour too, is, in fomekafes, carried too far; in others he ferves as a very pleasant contra to brother Gabriel.-Though the Marchionefs of

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N. puts one too much in mind of the lady who follows Sir Charles Grandifon, yet the different circumftances of temper, fortune, and conftitution, atone for that (perhaps accidental) fimilarity; and we have feldom met more affecting claims upon our pity than prefented themfelves in the courfe of her correfpondence. We wish a little more of that animating fervor of diction which this author has fometimes lavifhed upon a lefs amiable character, had been thrown into that of the lovely Lucia de Grey, who, notwithstanding her gentle difpofition, lofes, now and then, much of the intereft which we wish to have for her, when she ftands by the fide of the ardent and unhappy Marchionefs: but, perhaps, the peaceful, or even the impaffioned fcenes of virtuous life do not admit of that fervor of colouring which is proper to paint the agitated fituations of vice and irregularity-all peace without, all harmony within; or elfe fuch kind of diftrefs as demands the foftening teat, and tender figh unattended by thofe torrents of remorfe and bursts of confcience which break from a heart whofe affections are wild, enthufiaftic, voluptuous or ungovernable. Upon the whole then, THE TUTOR OF TRUTH may be read by those into whofe hands it might be hazardous to put the PUPIL OF PLEASURE. The latter, it is true, ftrikes on the imagination of the reader like the flafh of the lightning, but like that flash may chance-at leaft fuch has been the idea-to injure while it aftonifhes: The former is as a generous ftream, which, iffuing from fome unpolluted fountain, flows regularly along, difplaying in its progrefs many an agreeable flower, opening various profpects, and fertilizing as it goes. The one is as a hurricane which exhibits the hemifphere in a fudden blaze of momentary brightness changing as fuddenly to proportioned gloom-while the other is as a calm wherein the face of the heavens is more uniformly inviting; where the gale is more temperate, and which if it furprizes lefs, it fatisfies

more.

The limits of our Review do not allow us to extend these obfervations. Nor, indeed is it neceffary to run the contraft farther. We have been infenfibly led to trace and to examine it with fome accuracy, but we muft defer any extract from the work itfelf to a future opportunity. S

Friendship the dernier Refource: a Poem. Addressed to a Gentle man late of Cambridge. By a Young Gentleman of the Midale Temple, 4to. is. 6d. Evans,

This is intended, we perceive, as an ethic epiftle after the manner of Mr. Pope.-Alack, and a-well-a-day! Mr. Pope fays

Eye nature's walk, fhoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rife.'. Our young gentleman of the Middle Temple, fays, View nature's law, unravel nature's plan, Regard a while the citadel of man."

To which, wE fay,

Laugh where we MUST, be candid where we CAN.' The author of this Poem has really made fome very pretty discoveries. We always imagined that the bofom of pity was affectionate and warm, but our author has found out that

"Pity's cold as frost

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Like fleet it falls (he fays) and foon as fleet is loft. Former poets have been accustomed to call the moon inconftant, fickle, and changing, but this innovating bard beftows upon her the epithet of FAITHFUL. Speaking of the contradictory qualities of women, who have long been privileged to cheat," he offers to us one of the daintiest allufions that founding nonfenfe ever affumed,

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"So ftars join ftars, to make each power more fierce, Flash to confound, and penetrate to pierce." There's for you, reader!-The frantic line of that mad poet, Nathaniel Lee,

Whofe gods met gods, and joftled in the dark. feems fober reafon to this.

Treating of friends, he thus deplores their scarcity,
"Such Marcus is, yet Marcus is but one,
And unit he, and that's as good as none.

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In what fchool our author was taught arithmetic we do not know. This mode of calculation at leaft appears a little in-. acurate, for we do ftoutly maintain that a unit is better than a cypher. Ergo, Mafter Marcus, though but one friend is better than none.

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After having looked into every nook and corner for Friendhip, where, reader, doft thou think he finds her?---But thou wilt never guefs; and fo we, upon the authority of our author, will inform thee, that the lady Friendship, after being lulled to reft by droning village flies, was difcovered, ruftic garb, on a bed of STABLE STRAW." If thou hadft looked after her for twice feven years, we question

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whether thou wouldest have thought of looking for the fair lady in that litter.

The two laft lines of the poem merit and meet with our hearty concurrence.

When he with men and things is converfant long, May founder judgment, point a BETTER fong." Amen to that fweet prayer! The only hope of seeing which come to pafs, however, is gathered from perceiving here and there a pretty thought harmoniously expreffed; as in the following lines for inftance,

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"Friendship, more pure than Cynthia's virgin light,
Soft as the morn, and quiet as the night,
As autumn calm, and more than woman fair,
Fresh as the fpring, and yielding as the air,
As courage bold, and more than grandeur great,
Fixt as the earth, and permanent as fate;
Not aw'd by pow'r, nor yet by interelt fway'd,
In candour dreft, and fimpleft truth array'd;

Not prone to stoop, nor humble to commend,

In meanest things the feeks the nobleft end."

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Poems; by a Young Nobleman of diftinguished Abilities, lately deceafed, 4to. 2s. 6d. Kearsley.

Thefe Poems, by a young Nobleman, mark his imputed character too ftrongly to be thought spurious; and yet confidered as genuine they will never reflect any honour upon his memory. Certain it is they have traces of genius; and yet they are in no fenfe of the word, GOOD Poems and indeed, the fhocking indecency of fome, leads us to believe that, inftead of being published by a friend, they were raked up by fome inveterate enemy, whofe malice furvived the exiftence of its object at any rate the pretended friend would have performed a more confiftent part had he committed the manufcript to the flames. We felect, as a fpecimen of his Lordfhip's poetical abilities, part of a performance called The State of England in the year 2199.

"And now through broken paths and rugged ways,
Uncultivated regions, we advanc'd

To'ards fam'd Augufta's towers, on the Thanies

(Whose clear broad stream glides fmoothly thro' the vale)
Embank'd, and ftretching o'er the level plain,
For many a mile, her gilded fpires were feen,.
While Britain yet was free-alas! how chang'd,
How fallen from that envy'd height; what tim

She

She rul'd the fubject nations, and beheld
The Spaniard crouch beneath her spear, and all
The Gallic lillies crimson'd o'er with blood.
Extinguish'd are their glories, and her fun
That once enlighten'd Europe with his beams,
Sunk in the Weft, is fet, and ne'er again
Shall o'er Britannia spread his orient rays!
Thefe were my thoughts whilft thro' a falling heap
Of shapeless ruins far and wide diffus'd,
Paul's great cathedral, from her folid base,
High tow'ring to the fky, by heav'n's command.
Amidst the univerfal waste preferv'd
Struck my aftonish'd view! a fabric huge,
Of nobler ftructure than e'er Babylon,
Or glorious Rome with her marbled walls
Cou'd boaft in days of yore; before the Goth
With barbarous hand, and uncontrouled fway,
Crush'd furious her magnificence, and swept
Temple, and tow'r, down to the ground. For not
The fam'd Pantheon, or the fculptur'd dome
Of
great Semiramis, nor holier Fane
Of once infpir'd Judea, to the eye
Of fpeculative wonder, did prefent
A more admir'd, or admirable view!
On this fair object my fix'd eye was kept

In pleafing meditation, whilft my guide,
A poor ematiate Briton, led me on

Through fireets, and fquares, and falling palaces,
(Where here and there, à habitant was feen)
To where stood once amongst the peopled town
Th' Exchange of London; where the golden ftreams.
Of vivid commerce from the trading winds
Levant and Ponent, north and fouth effus'd,
Were in a centre fix'd: where ev'ry dạy
Ten thousand merchants, learned in the art
Of nurfing, and improving wealth, conven'd,
To fettle on the wide and ftable base

Of liberty, and public good, their own
And happy England's welfare.-Then the pride
Of the commercial world, whofe trade spread on
From fouthern Orelan, to the banks

Of cold Estotiland, from fultry climes
And freezing regions, over diftant feas
Brought gather'd wealth, and Afian treafures home!
Now onward we proceed into a field
O'ergrown with rank and noisome weeds, and here
The honest Briton wiping from his eye
The starting tear, in broken fobs of grief,
And mingled indignation thus exclaim'd-

In this unwholfome fen, by the foul toad,

And

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